


Pen Pals

by kumikocchi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Comedy, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Oblivious Draco, Pining Harry, Post-War, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Top Harry, i love hedwig, moms lol, petty draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumikocchi/pseuds/kumikocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Harry lets out a secret, Narcissa is a total mom, and Draco is a brat (a cute one though).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off a prompt I vaguely remember from instagram, I don't remember where I found it or who posted it so if anyone knows please tell me :') 
> 
> Edit: Was messaged the prompt! Originally from sea-rogue on tumblr!
> 
> "Somebody pleeease write or rec me a fic where Harry and Narcissa become pen pals after the war because Harry wants to thank her for saving his life and is surprised when she writes back so he writes back to her and then they just keep going until they are friends and Narcissa is just like “wow this child needs a mom. Maybe two. I volunteer.” And Draco finds out and is like “mother, what the fuck” and Narcissa just ignores him until finally she starts inviting Harry over for dinner and Draco is just like “oh no he’s still hot”"  
> ~sea-rogue
> 
> Warnings: possible cursing, upcoming explicit content (rating changes)
> 
> I just need some fluff. woops
> 
> P.S. I keep a lot of things canon like jobs and stuff, but there are some changes here and there.

Harry trudged down the stairs to his kitchen, nursing a banging hangover. Years of laboring for the Dursleys had made him accustomed to Muggle cooking, but considering that standing straight was a major task at the moment, he summoned mashed potatoes smothered in gravy (gravy always was his hangover cure).

Just as he was bringing a spoonful of carb-filled deliciousness to his mouth, a bang went of in the living room and startled him to the point of splattering gravy mush all over his face, not to mention his overly sensitive brain crying from pain. After wiping the mess off his face, he looked up to see a frantic Hermione Granger rushing into his kitchen.

“HARRY JAMES POTTER WHAT IS THE MEANING OF-” Hermione shrieked before Harry casted a quick silencing charm. Her mouth kept moving until she realized her muteness. She put her hands on her hips and had that are-you-kidding-me look she perfected over the years which frankly, scared Harry quite a bit. As Harry lifted the charm, Hermione shoved a paper into his hands. 

Harry stared down trying to make sense of the words, but his hangover only allowed him to see a black and white mess. 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Hermione huffed. “ _ Sobrietum _ .”

And with that Harry felt his head clear up immensely. A sobriety spell. Why didn’t he think of that?

He returned his focus to the paper and recognized it as a Quibbler article. And more importantly, read the headline.

_ DEATH EATER MOM SAVED SAVIOR _

Immediately his eyes widened to the size of moons and he sputtered, trying to say something comprehensible. He looked up at Hermione whose arms were crossed across her chest. She jerked her chin at the newspaper, urging him to read the whole thing.

 

_ Yesterday marked the anniversary of the War’s end, and how else would the Golden Boy, Harry Potter, and his allies celebrate but gather in commemoration at the Three Broomsticks Inn. Halfway through the night, Potter stood in front of his friends and gave a beautiful speech, individually praising each of his friends for their sacrifices, as well as a eulogy to all those who have died at the hands of the Dark Lord.  _

_ However, as our very own Rita Skeeter would find out later that night, our selfless Savior had forgotten to thank someone very crucial to his success: Narcissa Malfoy. According to Potter himself, at a very critical point at the war where things seemed dire, Potter had to play dead to spare himself from the Dark Lord. However, Malfoy knew of Potter’s ruse and had bravely lied to the Dark Lord about Potter’s mortality to save the Chosen One, and effectively bring the downfall of the Dark Lord. _

_ Considering Potter’s debt to Malfoy and his constant preaching of resolving differences, it is disappointing that he has deliberately left her out of his speech because of her association to Death Eaters. In addition, this shocking revelation brings to question: should we reevaluate the notorious Malfoys? _

 

Under the article was picture of Narcissa with poorly edited big flashy question and exclamation marks. The caption even said, “Notorious or Famous??”. 

Harry sat gaping at the article, trying to piece together last night for even a sliver of understanding as to why this article was in his hands right then. 

“I. I- don’t kno- what. How?” He stuttered out. He was officially in a silent panic and had no idea how to explain anything to himself, let alone his very angry best friend standing in front of him.

“Is this true?” Hermione asked. She was baffled down to her core, and also had no idea how to efficiently process this information.

“No!” Harry denied quickly. “Well, essentially yes, but a lot of the details are false!”

At this moment his other friend decided to pop through his fireplace, and Harry swore, somehow Ron Weasley’s hair was even more red than it already was. 

“HARRY? MATE? WHAT??” he yelled as he stormed into the kitchen.

“I’m already on the case dear,” Hermione said to her livid boyfriend. Turning back to Harry, “How could you not tell us about this?” 

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it. And then opened it again. “Well?!” she yelled.

“Ron. Hermione. Let me explain,” Harry said, holding up his hands in defense. Both Hermione and Ron stared at him. 

“Ok well, I didn’t say anything because she asked me not to,” Harry said meekly. 

At that Hermione and Ron started ranting, their voices and words overlapping each other. Hermione said something about the importance of trust and communication between friends, especially in times of need and Ron was just going on about how the Malfoys were a lousy group and how dare Harry let himself be in debt to one of those “slimy snakes”. 

“PLEASE,” Harry yelled when he couldn’t stand listening a second more. “She saved my life, keeping a secret is hardly a price to pay.”

Hermione, being the logical one she is, started to settle down. Ron on the other hand was still mumbling about crazy purebloods. A couple moments of silent staring passed causing a very annoying twitch in his left arm appear. Deciding that now was as good a time as any, Harry started telling them about his encounter with Narcissa at the Forbidden Forest. 

 

“Wow…” Hermione said. “I always knew she was dedicated to family but I did not expect that.”

“Exactly!” Harry threw up his hands in frustration. “That bloody Skeeter. She did it for her son not for me,” he grumbled. “Gods, I must have been ridiculously drunk to let Skeeter interview me.”

Another moment of silence passed.

“Skeeter’s a git,” Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked up at the clock. “‘Mione, aren’t you going to be late for work? It’s already quarter past nine.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and quickly got up. “Oh gods, this is bad. I’ve got a meeting with the Minister! Harry we’ll talk later!” And with a quick peck on Ron’s cheek, she ran off and disappeared through Harry’s fireplace leaving behind green smoke. 

“What about you?” Harry said to Ron. 

Ron looked insulted. “I’m your partner! We weren’t assigned anything?”

“Oh. Right. My bad,” Harry mumbled, he had completely forgotten that Ron was his auror partner. “That reminds me, I still have to finish off the paperwork from the last case. Scrimgeour almost bit my head off when I said I wasn’t finished last Friday.”

Ron laughed, “Merlin, you’re even worse than me now. Surprised ‘Mione hasn’t bit your head off about that yet. Anyways, I promised to help George down at the shop. Seeya mate.” He got up and disappeared through the fireplace as well, leaving Harry alone in his house.

Harry sat there rubbing his neck. This was definitely not how he expected his morning to go.

 

Harry decided to spend the rest of the day catching up on well overdue paperwork. Hours of tearfully boring paperwork later, Harry leaned back into his chair and admired the stack of papers which he filled out with his now worn out quill. He let out a hefty sigh just as his stomach growled and realized that he didn’t eat a thing the whole day. 

Harry made his way down to the kitchen and whistled a small tune as he whipped up some pasta. He added a generous amount of grated cheese to the top before sitting down at the kitchen table. He was halfway through his dinner before he noticed the article still sitting on the tabletop and felt a pang of guilt for Narcissa. He never did thank her. 

What could he possibly do? Would he go to the Malfoy Manor? 

Harry envisioned himself standing at the doorstep as Narcissa opened the door. She would probably  have a face of surprise because a Potter visiting a Malfoy is virtually unheard of. Then the Narcissa in Harry’s mind hexed the living soul out of him.

Harry shivered. Nope, he didn’t fancy being hexed one bit.

What about getting Hermione to go over for him? Perhaps with a gift? Hermione always did have a way with words, Harry thought. Yet Harry shook his head; even Ron would know that was childish and stupid. 

Maybe a letter? It was personal, yet not too invasive with a dash of sincerity. Plus, no danger to Harry’s body possible! Harry smiled. It was his smartest idea since rigging George’s house to release a thousand screaming chocolate frogs the moment he stepped through his front door. 

He got a length of parchment and a new Self-Ink Quill, and got to work. 

 

Three hours and twenty crumpled up parchments later, Harry had finally finished his letter. He held it up and proofread it three times before folding it up neatly and adding his seal. At the perfect moment, Hedwig returned from her daily night fly. 

“Ah Hedwig, come here,” Harry said. “I’ve got something I need you to deliver.”

Hedwig dutifully flew down to Harry and let him tie the letter to her leg. 

“This is for Narcissa Malfoy.”

Hedwig chirped curiously and nipped at his finger.

“Don’t ask,” Harry grumbled. And with that Hedwig flew out of the window towards the Malfoy Manor. 

 

\---

 

Draco was absolutely enraged. He was pacing around the living room coffee table where the Quibbler and a teapot sat. His beautiful mother sat peacefully on the lounging chair sipping some tea with a book in her other hand. 

Draco stopped and turned to his mother. “Are you not ticked off?” He screamed throwing his hands in the air. 

“Inside voices dear,” Narcissa chided. 

Draco scowled and continued pacing. “A year after the War and this ridiculous Golden Boy still has the audacity to do these things. Perfect saint Potty still thinking everything is about him. Even MY mother has to be risking her life for HIM. And I just can’t believe that he has to share these ridiculous thoughts with Rita Skeeter, the worst reporter there is!”

“Draco dear, it’s not a big deal,” Narcissa hummed as she flipped a page. 

“But mother! It’s ridiculous, and these stupid reporters keep referring to us as ‘notorious’,” Draco said, mocking the word “notorious”. He huffed and plopped down on the sofa next to his mother, arms crossed and pouting. “I swear that little Potter weasel- OH don’t even get me started on those Weasleys and the muggle of a girlfriend he has.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh how I hate that Potty toilet so so so much. I just positively loathe him. Can’t believe all those girls are still throwing themselves at him. Disgusting groupies, the lot of them. At least he isn’t still snogging that weasel girl, looking at them together always did make my stomach sick. Wouldn’t you say the same mother?”

“Of course, Draco dear.”

Draco looked at his annoyingly calm mother and huffed even louder. He sunk lower into the sofa and stared at 

At that moment, a snowy white owl swooped onto the window ledge and pecked at the glass panes.

“Oh Merlin…” Narcissa sighed, getting up to open the window. “I just got the windows cleaned.” 

She slid the window open and the owl dropped a folded parchment onto the ledge, chirped, and flew back off into the night. She raised an eyebrow when she saw her name scrawled in a messy handwriting across the top in black ink. She picked it up and flipped it over, examining the seal. It was stamped with initials in an elegant script.

_ HP _

She let out a small gasp.

“Mother? What is it? Is there something wrong?” Draco inquired. 

“Nothing’s the matter, Draco. It’s a friend from way back when I was your age. I’m just surprised to hear from her,” Narcissa quickly lied. “I’ll take this up to my room.”

Draco grunted in acknowledgement and continued to stare disdainfully at the wall. 

Narcissa padded off upstairs and into her room. She sat down at her vanity and opened the letter.

 

_ Narcissa Malfoy, _

_ I’m sure you’ve encountered the Quibbler article today, and I want to sincerely apologize for releasing that information. I was in a questionable state at the least when I was interviewed, and I had no intention of spreading such things about you or your family. I want you to know that I know you didn’t do what you did for me, and I am also very upset at how the article was worded.  _

_ If there is anything I can do as retribution, please let me know. _

_ -Harry Potter _

 

Narcissa read it again a second time and smiled. Who would’ve thought, a Potter apologizing to a Malfoy. When she saw the article, she was baffled, but never really upset. And upon reading the letter, she felt her mood elevate. 

With her mind at ease, she set down the letter and decided that it was time for bed. After all, she needed her beauty sleep to fight off those dratted wrinkles. 


	2. 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') long time coming, sorry

Harry was sleeping peacefully when something landed flat on his face and slid off. He sputtered ungracefully and groped around the bed until his fist closed around a rolled up parchment. Outside the window was still dark, making Harry wonder just who was writing him at this ungodly hour. 

He pushed himself up and turned on the his bedside lamp. He could just make out the word “URGENT” stamped in large red letters across the front as he shoved his glasses on. Under it was the stamp of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry groaned and flopped back down onto his pillow. Probably another nutter dabbling in dark magic that needed stopping. He continued whining to no one until he heard a faint pop coming from the living room.

“Mate! What’s got you held up? Slower than a slug you are,” Harry’s partner screamed.

“I’m coming, give me a minute!” Harry yelled back down. While Ron wasn’t a morning person, Harry hated the mornings. He could practically feel the hate ooze out of him as he watched the sun peek over the city skyline. He threw on black joggers and a burgundy hoodie with the words “I’m a Gryffindork” plastered on the chest in yellow before going downstairs.

Ron was taking in the little photo collection of Harry and his friends during Hogwarts that Ginny had put up in that single week they lived together. As he heard Harry descend, he shifted his attention and took in Harry’s appearance before sighing. 

“Really mate? Gryffindork?” He sighed. “Where did you even get that from?”

Harry waved him off. “Whatever. Whoever we’re going to try to catch sure as hell won’t care.”

Ron scratched his head, hesitant as to whether he should push Harry to change into more formal robes or not. “Jeez… Let’s just get going, you’ve stalled enough,” he grumbled. 

Harry gave Ron a sympathetic smile before they both apparated off to the ministry. 

\---

Harry was home before noon. He was right. It was just some middle age man going around screaming the Unforgivable Curses to zap down house flies. Even that took Harry and Ron a good five hours to calm the man down and get him into custody. He didn’t even bother walking up the stairs and Apparated straight into his bed and he certainly did not want to get started on the new set of paperwork. He squirmed out of the hoodie and joggers before climbing under his most beloved blankets. 

Unfortunately, the Boy Who Lived still had trouble getting rest without being interrupted. An owl with feathers even whiter than Hedwig and piercing grey eyes landed on the window ledge. He didn’t make a noise or peck at the window to get Harry’s attention. He stood there pristinely, grooming his feathers until Hedwig was the one getting Harry’s attention.

Harry groaned. “Hedwig, by gods. What is it now?” 

Hedwig flitted to the window and chirped loudly. 

When Harry opened the window, the owl stuck his leg out and let Harry untie the parchment. Harry raised an eyebrow when he noticed the distinct way the owl turned his head away from him. And as soon as the string was untied, he raised his wings with great gusto, and flew off. 

“What an oddball…” he mumbled as he examined the envelope. It was a pale-ish yellow, like cream, and was weighty and luxurious to touch. There were nothing on the envelope itself, so Harry figured the smart thing to do was to open it. As expected, the paper was a smooth and thick sheet, with a small silver floral border. Cute, he thought. 

He quickly scanned to the bottom to identify the sender. He read the name, once, then twice. He rubbed his eyes before reading it again. Coming to reality, he quickly started to read.

 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am very touched that you have reached out, and I believe that you had no malicious intent when you spoke to Ms. Skeeter. I only asked you to keep my secret due to my fear of the Dark Lord learning of my deceit. Now that the war is over, I have nothing to fear. In addition, considering what you have done for my Draco, saving his life despite your differences, my actions have only put a dent in my debt to you._  
However, reading the article did remind me of the wizarding world’s view of me and my family, and how we are separated from the rest. I would like to uptake your offer of a favor. I would like to be on friendly terms with you.  
I look forward to crossing paths again. 

_-Narcissa Malfoy_

 

Harry was baffled. Not only was she completely relenting, she offered her friendship to him. A small part of him was proud of his letter for being able to elicit such a kind response from a Malfoy, but he was mostly, for a lack of a better word, just psyched. Someone whom he had thought hated him down to the core was actually a potential friend in disguise!

Immediately, he grabbed another piece of parchment and a quill. Within minutes, he was sending Hedwig off with another letter.

\---

Narcissa was sitting on the Manor’s porch, enjoying the spring weather. She was wearing her favorite blue sweater, the one Lucius had given her on their tenth anniversary. She looked up to see a stunning white owl return, his feathers practically reflecting the morning sun.

“My beautiful Max,” she cooed. The owl preened appreciatively. Narcissa took great pride in her grey-eyed snow owl. (Well technically, he was Draco’s, but why dabble in details.) “Did you deliver it?” 

Max chirped with pride and flew too the railings where he continued to groom his feathers. 

Narcissa smiled and returned to her book. She was really getting into muggle romance novels. Draco hated the idea of his mother indulging in teenage love fantasies but with Lucius gone, she did long for a touch of romance. “Good for you Bella,” she mumbled to herself. “Edward’s a much better match for you then Jacob.”

Only five pages later, a small whooshing sound came from above and Narcissa looked up to see an owl swoop down and drop what seemed to look like a hastily folded piece of parchment on her lap. The owl proceeded to land in front of Max, letting out a loud squawk right in his face before flying off.

Max looked positively distraught. He turned his head to Narcissa and yelped. It was as if he was saying, “How dare that muddy bird approach me with such mannerisms!”

“Oh Max, I highly doubt she meant it like that,” Narcissa said as she unrolled the parchment. She recognized the messy scribble as none other than Mr. Harry Potter’s, and confirmed her suspicion by reading the signature at the bottom. She was slightly taken back by how quickly he had responded, not that she was complaining of course.

\---

Two weeks after the Quibbler article, Hermione walked into Harry’s office. Expecting to find him sleeping on his desk instead of finishing his paperwork (as always), she found an empty office and a desk littered with expensive looking envelopes. In the center, was a neatly organized stack of letters, all starting off with “Dear Harry,”.

Hermione looked behind her shoulder; no one was in sight. She looked back at the letters. Now her parents, did not raise her to snoop around in her best friend’s mail, but then again her curiosity was just killing her. She scooped up the papers and started to flip through them.

Hermione was baffled. They were all from Narcissa Malfoy, and she was acting as if she and Harry were best friends! She kept flipping through the letters.

The letters ranged from Harry’s auror work to buying Quidditch tickets for Malfoy, as well as advice on what broom to get Draco for his birthday. And from what Hermione could tell, Harry had told her a great deal about his life during the War. He and Narcissa even bonded over their mutual disdain for public reputations left from the War. 

Hermione quickly apparated to Harry’s home. She wasn’t even sure what to say, but she knew that she was definitely going to say something, or so she thought.

There she stood, smack in the middle of Harry’s living room. Right in front of her was Narcissa in a white apron, setting a bowl of chicken soup down in front of Harry. Harry was huddled under the blankets with a runny nose, a dirty tissue crumpled up in his hand. 

Both Hermione and Harry froze, looking to Narcissa and then back at each other.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Granger.” Narcissa chimed. “Chicken soup?”

\---

Draco raked through every letter, feeling himself get redder and redder. His mother? Writing Harry Potter? She must be totally out of her mind, he thought. He was pacing around the coffee table again, spitting out curses here and there. He was so engaged with his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear his mother walk through the front door. 

“Draco you must stop that, you’ll wear out the rug,” she said, breaking his thought train.

Draco shot her a dirty look. “I’ll stop when you stop acting chummy with the boy I hate most.”

Narcissa tsked. “He’s a fine young man now. Plus, you do owe him your life.”

Draco sputtered. “T-that is neither here nor there. I acknowledge him in person and am very courteous to him if I do say so myself.”

“So what does it matter that I send him an occasional owl or two?” 

Draco looked at her incredulously. “It matters a great deal to me! He’s a twat!”

“Draco you’re being melodramatic. Besides, I’ve invited him over for dinner this Saturday. So I suggest you reconsider your opinions about him.” And with that, Narcissa glided off upstairs to the privacy of her room. 

Draco’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?”

\---

“Draco! Harry’s here!” Narcissa called out. 

Draco was sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Days have past, and he still could not wrap his head around the fact that Harry Potter and his mother were becoming best of friends. He heard the door open and could just barely hear them strike up some casual chit chat. 

“Wait in the kitchen dear, I’ll fetch Draco from upstairs,” Draco barely made out. 

His mother flung his door open and smiled at him. “Come down now please, Draco,” she said before flying off into the kitchen to check on her pot roast.

Draco grimaced as he tailed his mother. He put on his perfect Malfoy mask and by the time he was face to face with Harry, he was as everyone knew him to be: cool, calm, collected. He grimaced inwardly when he noticed his and Harry’s size difference. 

Draco was in no means frail; his Malfoy pride would never allow that. He was thin but had lean muscle running throughout his body, and his alabaster skin stretched beautifully over them every time they moved. However, Harry was a complete contrast to Draco’s pale grace. Years of Quidditch and Auror training had turned him from a scrawny boy to a man with caramel tanned skin. Draco could make a mental map of Harry’s abs through his shirt that hung off his broad shoulders. Not to mention the few inches in height Harry had on him. I could still take him on, Draco childishly thought to himself.

Harry smiled politely. “Hello Draco, it’s nice to see you.”

Draco was slightly taken aback by Harry’s lack of awkwardness. However, he quickly composed himself and shot his killer smile in return. “Likewise Harry.” The name felt so weird on his tongue.

“Harry I do hope you’re hungry,” Narcissa’s voice cut in. She gestured for them to have seats as house elves laid out a grand amounts of food.

“This looks amazing!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh it’s nothing really,” Narcissa insisted. “The house elves did most of the work anyway.”

“Still much better than anything I could ever do.”

Draco looked at Harry incredulously, then at his mother. Neither noticed his withering glares. He couldn’t be the only one thinking that something was just totally bizarre. He ate silently, only offering polite smiles while Harry and his mother chatted about little things, like Harry’s progress on his paperwork. He had half a mind to set up a silencing ward around himself. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry pushed his chair back and leaned back, stretching like a house cat. Draco couldn’t help notice the flash of skin as Harry’s shirt rode up. He had a prominent V-line, and a patch of hair that disappeared under his trousers; Draco felt his mouth go a little dry.

“Well I’m stuffed,” Harry let out. “This was fantastic, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Oh, no need to be so proper. Call me ‘Mom’.”

Draco choked on his spit and sputtered. Harry nearly tipped backwards off his chair. They turned to each other with incredulous eyes. 

Harry turned back to Narcissa, “I-I-I, I don’t know. ‘Mom’ is a bit odd…”

Draco nodded furiously internally. Finally, something he agreed with Harry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in August 2016 and never posted it? I guess life really got the best of me. I rediscovered this after I got some notifications of a couple guests leaving kudos so thank you to any of you who even bothered to read my forgotten mess. I plan on getting back into writing so please do look forward to the next chapter!  
> Warning: my writing style has changed a bit over the last year and a half, but I will try to make the transition as least jarring as possible... haha


End file.
